


Passing Ships

by bigcitydreamer98



Category: Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Angst, F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-04-06
Updated: 2019-04-15
Packaged: 2020-01-05 17:05:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,796
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18370364
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bigcitydreamer98/pseuds/bigcitydreamer98
Summary: Daenerys is a small town girl, growing up in a harbor-front village in New England. Ever since she was young, she had big dreams of escaping to the city, but her dreams are put on halt when her mother reveals a life-changing secret, prompting her to abandon her post-high school graduation plans and stay in the small town of Dragonstone. Three years later, at age 21, Daenerys no longer sees a future for herself in the city. She puts on a good face for her mom, but resents her brothers for leaving her with complete responsibility.. . .Jon grew up in London, treated to private school, luxury holidays and everything he could possibly want - that is, except for his dad back. He is in his third year of college and as a capstone project as a journalism major, he is assigned to Dragonstone to do research on small town life in an ever modernizing world. In Dragonstone, he meets Daenerys and they both find comfort in the other's loneliness. At some point, they switch from using each other for comfort to developing real feelings.





	1. Chapter 1

She was born when the flowers started to bloom and the snow started to melt, a time when people put away their winter coats and greet each other warmly as they take Sunday morning strolls. Her grandmother had littered her with presents upon her birth, saying she was the most beautiful baby she had ever seen. “Perfect,” as many would say. Her skin was like porcelain and her eyes were piercing yet expressive. For the first few weeks following her birth, townspeople all made their introductions to the youngest Targaryen. She had wisps of that famous silvery blonde hair that was a staple of her family. Her mother would hold her tiny hand in her own and her eldest brother, Rhaegar, would stand on his tippy toes to peer over the cradle. 

/////Olenna Tyrell/////

Olenna could remember the exact day the littlest Targaryen had come to be. She prided herself on knowing everything that was going on in the town and the birth of Daenerys was no exception. The entire Dragonstone community was buzzing about the newest member of the community. “I heard Aerys didn’t even want another child, let alone a girl” “Oh hush with your antiquated views. It’s not because he didn’t want a girl. I heard that he hasn’t been home in weeks. Work is important but you know, my hairdresser said that he might have something going on on the side, if you know what I mean” “I’m sure Mayor Cersei is going to have a fit – upstaging the birth of her own daughter.” 

Olenna was finishing up her work at the local library, well, the only library in the town. There wasn’t much to do Dragonstone, just a small New England town with one strip of businesses by the water. The supermarket rarely had options, but it made it easier to choose when there isn’t a choice. Children played by the docks and roller-skated through the streets, never worried that they would get hit by cars. Stores closed on Sunday morning, when everyone would go to church, and afterwards, everyone would gather together for lunch. It was quaint. It was quiet. It was home. 

Her darling, Margaery, was only still a very tiny little girl by that time. Following her work, she went straight to the local hospital to visit Margaery, who had gotten a little too confident when playing with her friends. She was perfectly fine now as she smiled from ear to ear at the arrival of her favorite grandmother. She looked so small in the big, adult bed. As they were leaving the local hospital, which was pretty much just an average doctor’s office with a few more machines and doctors in fancy coats, she passed by a very stressed Aerys Targaryen. She would later find out, after questioning the receptionist, that little Daenerys had been born. 

The Targaryens live a little ways away from the rest of the townspeople. Olenna thought it was rather odd that they picked a house all the way by the cove while the rest of the residents were by the center of the harbor. Still, they seemed normal enough and they were now full residents of the community. They’ve been to the picnics and made small talk with the rest of the community. Their house was grand with large bay windows that opened up to their vast front lawn, home to many parties and get-togethers over the years. Rhaegar would complain that the slope of the front lawn, leading to the water, always made it so that his soccer balls would end up rolling down the hill every time he tried to play. Still, they seemed happy, at least to Olenna. She knew more about Rhaella than Aerys. Rhaella was a kind young lady, full of compassion and dedication to the community and boy did she make the best apple pie for the harvest festival every year. The talk of the town that pie was. What she knew about Aerys was that he worked – a lot. Usually there was only one car in the driveway. 

Daenerys was a sweet little thing. In some respects, Olenna watched her grow up. Olenna would often see her in the library, holding her mother’s hand, searching for the perfect book for quite literally hours. Her hair had grown long, touching her lower back. Daenerys was tiny compared to the other 1st grade students. She looked delicate, like a freshly bloomed daisy. She was often dressed in white and lace. Dainty and innocent, but if you saw her from far away, she almost resembled a ghost. Her skin was white as snow and in the wintertime, with her pale complexion and matching hair, she could almost disappear into the fields of pillow-y snow. She wasn’t loud and she didn’t demand attention, but every time Olenna would see her at some party or community event, she could tell that Daenerys understood everything that was going on. While some people would call Daenerys foolish and naive, Olenna knew better. She was quiet, but there was no doubt that she was smart. And she was happy. She once got a brief scolding for arriving to church late, riding on Rhaegar’s back, but her doe eyes and petite features made all adults succumb to her charm. She got a pat on the head while Rhaegar was put on clean-up duty. 

When Margaery had taken up a job babysitting little Daenerys, Olenna had seen the littlest dragon’s room. It looked like it almost came straight out of a magazine. The colored pencils were neatly laid out, one by one, on her desk, arranged by their shade. Her bed was made, a stuffed dragon under the covers, peaking its head out the top. A monogrammed pair of roller skates sat perfectly by the foot of her bed. There wasn’t even a scuff on the pale pink exterior. Over her bed was a fabric bulletin board. Pictures of New York were tacked up and an NYU flag was draped over her headboard. She was much too young to thing about college, but Olenna knew that with all the time Daenerys spent in the library, the little girl had big dreams. 

Olenna couldn’t imagine how a girl of her age could keep a room this tidy. It was unfathomable, especially compared to Margaery’s own room. Margaery was Viserys’ age, but she had more of a thing for Rhaegar, as most girls in the village did. When Daenerys was 9, Viserys was 11 and Rhaegar 12. “You’re too young to have a crush,” Olenna had told her granddaughter, shaking her head. Margaery had learned to appease her grandmother at the tender age of 11. “Mm hmm,” she responded, but she would still glance out the kitchen windows to see Rhaegar throwing around a lacrosse ball with Viserys. 

Margaery always reported back to Olenna that Daenerys was a joy to babysit. She was only two years younger than Margaery so they become fast friends rather than establishing a power dynamic. Daenerys was known around the village for being a good listener. Daenerys’ school teacher had always praised her for following the rules. When Olenna would pick Margaery up from the Targaryen house, she would often see the report cards hung up on the refrigerator for all to see. That darling girl. 

/////Cersei Lannister/////

Cersei hated Daenerys from the second she was born. Myrcella was just a few months younger than Daenerys and yet, Daenerys would always get all the attention. Myrcella was shy and often hid behind her mother, while, even though Daenerys was reserved, she could often light up a room when she wanted to. From school play leads to student council seats, Myrcella always seemed to come in right after Daenerys. It was infuriating. Cersei forbid Myrcella from going to any of Daenerys’ parties, from her birthday parties with perfectly planned catering and bounce houses and monogrammed napkins to her movie nights with popcorn machines and cots set up so the kids could watch the movie under the stars. “I’m sorry, Rhaella, maybe next time. Myrcella has this doctor’s appointment that we just can’t miss.” She would usually switch out doctor’s appointment with visits with the grandparents if it became suspicious. She would always invite the Targaryens to any party for Myrcella, but they would often sense the tension and back out, never forgetting to hand deliver a gift the morning before. 

At elementary school graduation, Myrcella had decided to tug at her soft curls, that Cersei had spent hours on, when she started to get nervous, waiting for her name to be called. Cersei was horrified when the class picture had arrived in the mail. Little Daenerys was in the center, her hair fashioned in intricate braids, her dress perfectly white without a stain in sight. Myrcella was standing in the back row, her hair a little messy and her dress wrinkled on the side. 

At the sixth grade production of The Little Mermaid, Daenerys commanded all attention as she sung her little heart out, her hair temporarily dyed for the night in a nice auburn shade. Cersei still bough Myrcella the largest bouquet of flowers the florist offered. Cersei thought Myrcella shined the brightest, playing one of Ariel’s many sisters. 

At the science fair, Daenerys won first prize for her experiments with lemon trees. Cersei wanted to snack the ribbon off her table and place it on Myrcella’s own project. When Daenerys had come up to Myrcella saying, “I love your project. You should’ve won,” Cersei wanted to reply, “Then let her win.” It took all her effort to give Daenerys a slight smile, with her lips pressed together in a straight line. 

Cersei was happy when Daenerys started to change in high school. 

/////Myrcella Lannister/////

Myrcella had always envied Daenerys. Always one point higher on tests. Always the lead in the school productions. Always the one with the most photos in the yearbook. She walked into school every day like it was a fashion show. When other girls had asked about her outfits, Dany had always sheepishly said that her mother just knew how to get all the good deals. Everyone already knew that Rhaella had lived in New York City for most of her life. She had long-standing connections with many designers, but Daenerys would never outright say that. 

Myrcella never hated Daenerys. Daenerys was never mean to her. It was more like Myrcella wanted to be Daenerys. She envied the way the boys would circle around her like she was royalty. Theon, Grey Worm, Gendry, Samwell, and even her own twin, Tommen. She saw the way he snuck a rose into her locker on Valentine’s Day. Myrcella didn’t understand why the town worshipped her. 

It all started to change when the first day back from summer break began. It was their junior year and instead of the pastel dresses that Daenerys was known for, she walked in with high waisted acid washed daisy dukes. She wore a black crop top that didn’t cover her shoulders and wedges that Myrcella knew that Cersei would buy in a heartbeat. Myrcella watched as Theon approached. He had grown up over the summer, his baby fat disintegrating from his face. “Hey, beautiful,” he said to Daenerys, to which she just smiled and continued putting her stuff into her new locker. Myrcella noticed the way Theon put his hand on Daenerys’ waist, his hand lingering on her bare skin. Daenerys didn’t pull back like she usually had in the past. Theon was the captain of the lacrosse team and a year older than Myrcella and Daenerys. It wasn’t like Myrcella liked Theon (and she knew that Daenerys really didn’t like him in that way either) – he was the typical high school boy, rowdy, horny and a little too self-assured – but she envied the way he and other boys would act around Daenerys. The townspeople started to change their opinions of Daenerys. “She used to be such a sweet girl.” “Those boys are taking advantage of her.” “Why isn’t the school enforcing a dress code?” Still, her classmates only seemed to praise Dany more at her latest transformation. “All that time in Los Angeles over the summer really changed her.” “You're not complaining, are you? Because from where I’m standing, man, she looks good.” 

While there used to be praises of Daenerys from classmates and adults alike, now it seemed like all positive feedback was from her contemporaries rather than the community. 

/////Rhaella Targaryen/////

She started staying out past curfew, ignoring Rhaella when she would try to ask her for a simple favor. She no longer ate most meals with them, as she had always done before. Rhaella would’ve ignored all this and labeled it typical teenager behavior, but the transition happened too quickly for it to be considered simply hormones. A few weeks before her junior year would start, Daenerys was in Los Angeles, studying at a precollege program for theater. She never saw how the house unraveled. 

It all began with Aerys. She knew Daenerys was always Daddy’s Little Girl. She always wanted him to read her books goodnight. She cried when he would miss Sunday dinner when he promised he would be there. “Work, honey,” Aerys would say, but when he returned on Monday night, he would bring her back a little something. Macarons from Paris. A delicate fan from Beijing. A tiny Big Ben from London. She would instantly forgive him. When he was home, he would teach her how to throw a ball and how to do tricks on the skating rink. He would let her sit on his shoulders at lacrosse games and let her dress him up for Halloween. When she got bored of watching grown-up television, he would let her fall asleep in his arms. 

He was the perfect father to her, but Rhaella never let Daenerys see the cracks that started to form in the marriage. He would often forget to tell Rhaella that he had to prolong his business trip. One time, Rhaella stood waiting at the Amtrack station for him to arrive, just to be completely let down when train after train arrived with no Aerys in sight. He was sweet to her when he was home, but he was much more a father than a husband. He would often decide to play ball with Daenerys or teach Rhaegar how to drive, forgetting that Rhaella was left with the laundry or the groceries or the cooking. He brushed her off every time she would try to bring up her own feelings. She felt utterly and completely alone most days. Caring for three children is incredibly difficult. She would often find herself completely wiped, with homework to help with and dinners to cook and laundry to do and with no husband in sight. It wasn’t his maliciousness that broke their marriage – it was his ignorance. 

It became too much for her and the summer before Daenerys’ junior year, she snapped, telling Aerys that she was filing for divorce. They tried to hide it from Daenerys while she was in Los Angeles, hoping that her summer would not be affected, but their little girl was too smart for everything. On a facetime call, she noticed outside the front porch, on the upper right hand corner of the screen, was what appeared to be a moving van. They broke the news to her, but she did not respond. She did not cry or nod or even utter a word. She just sat there in silence, as if the Facetime had frozen. She did ask if it was a mutual decision. Aerys looked at Rhaella and that was all the confirmation Daenerys needed. 

The call ended with Rhaella promising that they both loved her dearly. They didn’t hear much from Daenerys the next two weeks before she was scheduled to fly home. They figured that she was processing it in her own way, but when she did return home, they realized that she had not processed anything. They hardly recognized her when she returned home. Her bare face was gone. Now, she opted for a bold lip and clothes that would never be appropriate for church. She fully ignored Rhaella and it got even worse when Aerys moved out, back to the city. Rhaella once overheard Daenerys and Rhaegar talking over the phone – Rhaegar had gone to live in San Francisco, studying law. “It’s all her fault.” Rhaella didn’t need her to clarify who “her” was referring to. 

Rhaegar was no longer in the house and the year before, Viserys had left to go to college as well. It was just Rhaella and Daenerys in a house that always seemed too large for them. Sometimes Rhaella wanted to shrivel up and hide from Daenerys’ judgements. She never said anything malicious to Rhaella, but the stares were enough to drive her mad. 

She would hear Daenerys calling Aerys often, using hushed voices so Rhaella wouldn’t hear. When Rhaella tried to enforce some rules – you shouldn’t be wearing that – and – you need to come home by your curfew and that’s final -, things only got more tense. They started to not speak, just exist next to each other, as two passing shadows, barely noticing the other. 

Everything started to change when Rhaella got sick. It started as little things, like forgetting the password to the security system, but it quickly transitioned to forgetting to pick up Rhaegar at the train station or not remembering to attend parent’s night at the high school. She would laugh with her friends, calling it mom-brain. “I’m just getting old, that’s it.” A few weeks later, she wasn’t so sure. She had trouble remembering important dates. “Mom, don’t worry about it. My birthday was great. It’s no problem you didn’t send a card.” She had trouble remembering names. “I’m sorry, I am blanking on your name.” “We were in the same gardening class for twelve years, how can you forget?” The worst was when she started forgetting the most basic of details. “I forgot how to get home.” “Mom, is this a prank? What are you talking about? I have class right now, I gotta go.” She waited, staring at the literal crossroads in front of her. She was sure that she has taken this road a thousand times, but for now, she couldn’t remember in the slightest. 

She decided to see a doctor. One night, she took the train to the city and went to a specialist. She found herself rubbing the cotton fabric of her dress between her forefingers and staring at the opposite wall, trying to memorize every tile that bordered the room. When the words, “advanced form of dementia” rolled off his tongue, she wasn’t surprised. She found her reaction as almost a carbon copy of Daenerys’ reaction to the divorce. Rhaella was quiet. She focused all her energy on counting the number of cotton balls in the container on the counter. On listening to make out the words of the telenovela in the next room over. On trying to place the smell of food wafting in from the break room. 

She took the subway from the doctor’s office to Penn Station. She did the same thing – counting the number of people in the subway car, memorizing all the phone numbers on the advertisements, listening to the music coming out of the headphones of the person sitting next to her. She got home around three AM. She collapsed on the couch, her heart feeling like an anchor, dragging her to the bottom of the sea. She felt like she was drowning and there was no one there to save her.


	2. You'll Always Have Me

/////Rhaella Targaryen///// 

Rhaella was able to hide it well. It helped that Daenerys was often out of the house, to some study group or to the library, which usually meant that she was driving around with Grey and Missandei or goofing off by the piers with other kids her age. With the help of Rhaella’s doctor, she found a treatment that allowed her to function pretty normally for the time being. By balancing her blood sugar, getting 8 hours of sleep a night, controlling her stress levels and taking a handful of pills, on the outside, she looked fine. She hadn’t had one of those big scares in months. 

Still, the thought that she could forget something of the utmost importance at any given minute left her feeling frightened in her own body. For your mind to be fine but your body to be a cage, was her worst nightmare. 

Dragonstone was a small town and more often than not, she stayed within the town. Before her diagnosis, she used to travel to the city by Amtrak every couple of weeks, but Rhaella had decided that any trips to the city were too risky. Plus, her doctor from the city made house calls. 

She would write notes for herself so she would remember - ‘How to get home from the supermarket.’ ‘How to pay the electricity bill online.’ ‘How to get your oil changed.’ She didn’t have to use these notes more times than not, but it gave her a sense of security to have them. To be honest, she adapted. Targaryens are survivors and Rhaella was no exception. 

She hadn’t told anyone, not Aerys who was living a completely separate life from her now, not Viserys who was often too ‘busy’ to pick up the phone, not Rhaegar who she didn’t want to burden at school, and not even Daenerys. Her darling Daenerys. 

She often thought back to the days when Daenerys would come to her for advice, would sit by the fireplace with her and read, would care for her as only a child could. Sometimes Rhaella thought that the disease was making her sentimental. When she was folding Daenerys’ laundry and placing it by the dresser, Rhaella would often stop by and glance at the childhood pictures on her wall. Many of them were with Rhaegar, Viserys, Missandei and Grey, but there were a couple here and there from before the divorce. They were all smiling – happy. What she wouldn’t give to return to those innocent days. 

Rhaella would smooth out the NYU flag still on Daenerys’ headboard before heading out. She had got into the habit of reading more often than she did for years. Her doctor thought it would stimulate her brain and she needed something to do. It was a nice and welcomed escape from her reality. Still, the chair next to the fireplace that had always been Daenerys’ spot always did feel a little empty. 

/////Daenerys Targaryen///// 

Daenerys was relieved to finally be a senior. She walked the halls with a certain pride and confidence that only a senior could possess. Daenerys would miss her friends terribly, but this was always the plan. She never once thought about staying in Dragonstone. She knew Missandei had decided on a local college. Unlike Missandei, Daenerys had always dreamed of bigger and better things. At least, she assumed life in the city would be better. Her goal was to travel, to explore the world as her father had done so many times before. 

Her dad had helped her cultivate her collection of postcards from all over the world. Wherever he went for business, he would buy a single post card and write everything he did there that day. From her early childhood, Daenerys dreamed of riding a boat in the Amsterdam canals and getting crepes in Paris. She wanted to climb the Great Wall and try all different types of dumplings for lunch. Going to a college in the city was the first step to the rest of her life and she couldn’t wait. 

She still got good grades and she was always still the lead in the town production. Theater gave her a freedom from her own life that allowed her to escape the lonely nights at home, the phone calls to Rhaegar that would always end too soon, the fear that boys only liked her for the way that she dressed. By putting on a different character, she was able to test out a new identity, to travel as far away from her own reality as she could. 

Because, honestly, her own life had become exhausting. 

She partied, yes, anyone at Dragonstone would know that. They had bonfires on the beach and they drove through the endless forests at night. In a town as small as Dragonstone, there isn’t much to do. They would eat dinner at 3AM at the only 24-hour diner in downtown and they would take kayaks out into the harbor at dusk. Theon would try to scare her, telling her that he heard of recent shark attacks along the coast, but she always made it back with all her body parts intact. There really wasn’t any alcohol, most likely because the one liquor store knew everyone in the community and definitely knew that Daenerys and her posse were still at the ripe age of 18. Nevertheless, they had the time of their lives. She would often fall asleep at Missandei’s house. She even had an emergency change of clothes there. 

Home never felt like the best option. It was quiet and lonely. Her mother was like a ghost. Daenerys often felt bad for her behavior the past year, especially after she found out about the divorce, but she never felt like she could apologize. Targaryens are too proud. So, she would often clean out the dishwasher or water the plants before she went to school. Still, her mother didn’t acknowledge that Daenerys was trying. Daenerys wanted to find a middle ground, but it never seemed like Rhaella was willing to meet in the middle. In her junior year, her house felt like a warzone. Now, it felt barren and empty. 

She got into NYU Tisch for acting and performance in the middle of her senior year. Once she had received the email, she froze. Missandei had grabbed the phone from Daenerys’ fingertips and with a gasp had encircled her best friend in a bear hug. 

“Never had a doubt in my mind,” Missandei responded, wiping the single tear that had started to form in Daenerys’ eye. 

That night, Daenerys had biked home, as usual, clutching her phone to her chest, for she feared that if she let the phone slip through her fingertips, everything would be lost. She found herself constantly checking the email, making sure that it wasn’t a dream. She had wanted to tell her mother about her good news, but she found Rhaella asleep on the couch in the living room. 

Daenerys would usually ignore the strange, newly acquired habits of her mother. She usually just associated them with post-divorce depression, but Rhaella’s quietness and constant napping seemed to point otherwise. Instead of waking her mother, she called Rhaegar, who almost damaged her eardrums with his loud congratulations. Even Viserys told her that he was proud of her. Viserys was never really the one to freely dole out praise. 

Daenerys made herself a peanut butter and jelly sandwich for dinner before retreating to her room. The sandwich was cut diagonally, because, even though she was technically an adult now, she would never eat a horizontally cut sandwich. That is an insult to all sandwiches everywhere. She plopped down on her bed, opened up her laptop, and decided to look up all the different dorms she could choose from. 

/////Months Later/////Rhaegar Targaryen///// 

Rhaegar heard about his mother’s illness last, when he had surprised Daenerys the summer before she was supposed to start school at NYU, or so he thought. He couldn’t wait for her to open his delicately wrapped present – an NYU jacket that came from their grandparents who were now living in Los Angeles. Their grandfather had attended NYU for both his undergraduate and graduate years. Rhaegar had even went above and beyond, getting ‘Daenerys’ stitched on the upper right corner. When he pulled it out from his briefcase, Daenerys’ took the wrapped box from his hands, giving him a “You didn’t have too,” and a side hug. 

He didn’t expect her response to opening the present. At first, her eyes opened wide, a smile emerging on her lips, but her smile faltered before she let out a polite, “Thanks, Rhaegar. I love it.” She folded it up, making sure the NYU logo was facing down, before placing it on the table behind her. 

“I thought you could take a picture with it at Grandpa’s old dorm building. He would love you more than he already does.” Rhaegar searched his sister’s eyes for the reason for her sudden change of disposition, but he couldn’t figure it out. 

“We all know I’m his favorite,” she replied, laughing a little, “But, Rhaegar, I’m not going.” 

Rhaegar’s eyebrows furrowed as he sat up from his chair, before deciding for himself what she had meant: “I know you’re not going for a couple of weeks, silly.” He tousled her hair like he used to do when they were children. “No rush on that picture.” 

Daenerys didn’t smile as she had always done when he babied her. “No, Rhaegar. I declined my admission. I’m not going to NYU.” 

He could tell by the way her lip slightly quivered that she was serious. “If it’s a money thing, I have some . . .” 

He already knew that it wasn’t a money thing. With Aerys’ job, they were set for life. Rhaegar found himself pulling at strings: “What are you talking about? You’ve been dreaming of this school since you were a child. What changed?” 

With that, Daenerys started looking down at her palms. She played with the hair tie on one of her wrists: “It’s not my story to tell.” Never once had she been this coy with him. He was her confidant and she, his. 

At the perfect time, Rhaella walked into the room and continued Daenerys’ sentence, “But it’s mine. It’s time you know.” 

Rhaella went into detail about her illness and how she tried to keep it from her children. For a period of time, no one knew. For a period time, doctors thought that her symptoms had stagnated, but in both scenarios, things change. Daenerys found out two weeks before the college decision day in May. She had told Rhaella about her acceptance a few months prior, which earned her a hug which she hadn’t received from Rhaella in months. Now, in May, it was time to accept her position. She asked Rhaella if she could check her email on Rhaella’s computer – Daenerys' computer was still at Missandei’s house from the night before. As Daenerys opened up the browser, she saw Rhaella’s own email already open – a note from Rhaella’s doctor on the center of the screen. It was still a couple of days until the official decision was due. 

Daenerys’ mind went numb as she read the words. She thought back to the last couple months and everything started to make sense. Rhaella once made her lunch with the sandwich cut horizontally. Daenerys would find sticky notes around the house with phrases such as “Don’t forget to call the gardener” or “This is your mother’s phone number. You promised to call her back.” Rhaella was always known for her memory. She didn’t need these post-it notes. She noticed how her mother’s eyes would sometimes glaze over, as if she was in a different world. It all made sense. 

Wordlessly, Daenerys had made her way to the kitchen, where Rhaella was cleaning up the last dish, and hugged her mother, placing her arms around her tightly, as if Rhaella would slip through her fingers if she let go. Over the next few days, Rhaella had sat Daenerys down and told her about everything that had been happening. They cried in each other’s arms more times than once. Rhaella divulged that the symptoms were getting worse, slowly, but her remedies weren’t working as well as they once had. 

What she didn’t know was how, on May 1st, when Daenerys was supposed to confirm her spot at NYU, she clicked decline instead.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Jon's side of the story is next. Hope you enjoyed it! Please read & review. Reviews do really make all the difference :)


	3. Chapter 3

/////3 Years Later //////Jon Snow///// 

“And that’s why I’m never allowed back there,” Jon finished, leaning back in his chair, a smile on his face as he scanned the reactions of his audience. His friends roared with laughter, many of them holding their own stomachs and doubling over. “Good on you, mate.” Another round of beers, which they quickly downed, was just the start of their night. It had long been tradition to have these guys-only pub nights and Jon always felt a newfound burst of energy after spending time with his childhood friends. They had known each other from private school in their youth, and the core group had gone to university together as well. Playing pranks on the professors and stealing extra sweets from the kitchen really bonds you for life. Still, even though they attended the same university, as year three students, it was difficult to find time to meet up. With labs, classes, study sessions, and tutorials, the pub outing wasn’t as common as it had been before. 

“How did you even get away with that,” Harry said under his breath, his eyebrows scrunched up as he racked his brain for a possible explanation. Jon just shrugged his shoulders and laughed: “I guess you’ll never know.” 

“I saw your sister when I was at the grocery store the other day. Sansa’s getting to be a real looker,” Jacob changed the subject. Jon sent him a death glare. In response, Jacob put his hands up in defense, “Not me, mate. My younger brother’s at the same boarding school – says she keeps rejecting him. He asked me to ask you to put in a good word.” 

“Just goes to show me that Sansa’s in her right mind. Your brother knows that if he is rude to her in any way . . .” 

Jacob waved his hand, shushing Jon, “Yes, yes, yes. And he’ll have to go through you first.” 

Harry added, “And Robb.” Harry was still scarred from the time Robb heard Harry outside the kitchen window late at night when they were younger. Armed with a bat, Robb had opened the door to see Harry fumbling around drunk. All Harry had to see was Robb’s towering figure and the silhouette of a baseball bat before he dashed off into the night, luckily making it back to his house in one piece. 

“So, Belfast, huh,” Jon changed the subject, addressing his question to Harry. Jon was happy to get off the subject. He always did seem to find a way to avoid talking about his family, and his friends knew to let it happen. 

He didn’t always used to shut down at the mention of his family. It used to be almost everything he talked about. Arya got a Nerf gun for Christmas and shot down Rickon without remorse. Sansa dressed up the dog in her old play clothes, much to the distain of Lady. Mom was spending all her time managing the parent’s association of Bran, Rickon, Sansa, and Arya’s school – they didn’t used to go to boarding school, not until about a year and a half ago – and she never had time to make Robb’s favorite Sunday breakfast. Robb used to storm around the house for about twenty minutes before tiring himself out- what a little king, that Robb. But now, every time the Stark family was brought up, Jon deflected time and time again. 

The night continued with nostalgic stories - “Remember in year six when we went on that field trip to the city and Jon, here, got lost. We had to wait around for him for hours.” - and complaints about their current lives - “You know what, I’m just going to quit. That’s what I’m going to do” “No you’re not” “Maybe not, but I’ll quit in my mind” -, but the real reason for this get together was bittersweet. 

“America, huh,” Harry began, “Eat some hamburgers for me.” 

Jon laughed, “Of course.” There was a beat, a pause, as if something unsaid was lingering over them. Nothing would be the same. Harry was graduating early and attending med school. Jacob was staying in London but moving rather far away to live with his girlfriend and Will was taking a leave of absence to help with his aging grandmother. 

They didn’t say it out loud. They gave each other big bear hugs upon leaving, but they knew these pub nights would be rare in the future, but if they said it out loud, it would be real. They weren’t ones to get all mushy on each other. With one look from Harry and a pat on the back from Jacob and Will, Jon knew that they felt the same way. 

Especially for Jon, he wasn’t ready for the next stage in his life. As a journalism major, to finish up his degree, he had to spend one semester on an assigned project. While other students got picked for studying the indigenous villages of Africa or elderly cave divers in Asia, Jon got assigned to New England, to a small town called Dragonstone. 

“Fuckin’ hell, man,” Jon had ranted to his best mates when he was given the assignment, “This will be so boring. I am going to a town where there is . . .” Jon looked at the sheet he had been given. He read the tiny print: “One high school. Three restaurants. One grocery store and nothing in the vicinity for miles. I’m going to the middle of nowhere.” It was easy to tell that he wasn’t all the most enthusiastic. 

He wished he was back in primary school when his dad helped him get out of a project on the popular furniture types of 18th century London because another group was assigned to study the gastronomic history of London. He would much study food than furniture and his father, like always, used to be on his side. Now, his dad couldn’t help him get out of this. 

/////London Heathrow International Airport///// 

He should’ve called. He should’ve told someone other than his friends, but he couldn’t bring himself to pick up the phone. He felt bad, but before they knew it, he would be back in London. 

Plus, he didn’t really talk to anyone anymore. Rickon was too young. Bran was usually in his own world. Sansa had made it a point to transform herself this school year - “Like The Princess Diaries,” she had told him. Arya usually had her phone privileges taken away because of some catastrophe that she was always a part of and Robb, well, Robb and Jon weren’t talking. 

He would call them in case of emergencies, though, he wasn’t sure what they would be able to do from across the pond. He tried to justify it, telling himself that it was only one semester. They would hardly miss him. He would hardly think about them. His mom was in her old world. He was sure she wouldn’t even notice. 

With one last bite of his sandwich, cut horizontally, just the way he liked it, he made his way to the terminal and boarded the flight. As he sat down in his seat, he found himself drifting off to sleep, unconsciously dreaming of his idyllic childhood. 

Hot tea on rainy afternoons. Spending summers in the countryside with the grandparents. Giving Arya and Sansa piggyback rides and eventually deciding to make it a race: Robb with Sansa on his back and Jon with Arya. 

His mother would always dress them in matching outfits to take a family picture before the first day of school. Every picture was hung up on the wall leading up the stairs to the bedrooms. The pictures stopped a year and a half ago. The frame where it was supposed to be placed remained empty. The last time he was back at the house, still about a year and a half ago, he looked at the pictures, looked at his smiling face. He wanted to take all of them down. It didn’t feel right anymore. 

When Jon awoke, he saw the clouds start to blow away, revealing a clear blue sky. He had gotten used to the rain of London, so he welcomed the weather. Still, all he could think about was getting back on another plane and flying home. But . . .he wasn’t sure where was home anymore because it certainly wasn’t the shell of a house that he had grown up in. With a deep breath, Jon exited the plane, the sun blinding him with its rays. Jon stuck his phone in his jacket pocket and started walking. He wasn’t going to turn back now.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> SPOILER: 
> 
> \----------------------------------------------------  
> Okay, can we talk about how cute the dragon riding scene was in the premiere? Dany was smiling so much and oh it was just adorable.

**Author's Note:**

> Hope you like it. As always, please comment your thoughts! Thanks :)


End file.
